


I thought you were immune to Strychnine!

by SingSwan_SpringSwan



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Green Goblin is mad scientist, Iron!Dad, Karen is a snitch, May Parker knows but no one knows that she knows, Norman Osborn Is A Creep, Pepper is a momma bear, Peter Parker gets yeeted, Protective Tony, Spiderbaby, Steve is mom-friend but mom doesn’t love you, Superfamily, Tony needs to calm down, Tony should probably take meds, Wanda as a concerned big sister, double-stuffed oreos, peter in a coma, softboi Bucky, spider!son, wump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-12 08:38:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19128460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SingSwan_SpringSwan/pseuds/SingSwan_SpringSwan
Summary: Norman Osborn has a bit of a sadistic side as the Green Goblin, but he isn’t stupid. He can figure out that the new super known as “Spider-man” is likely just a kid, and he wants to know just how powerful the youngling’s abilities really are. However, he didn’t exactly count on genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist Anthony Stark to have a soft spot for the boy...





	I thought you were immune to Strychnine!

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! Thanks for dropping in! I hope you enjoy this floofy one-shot, because I certainly had fun writing it. 
> 
> This AU is set roughly around the time of Spiderman: Homecoming, so... about a year after Civil War. Let’s just assume that that whole fiasco ended with full pardons para todos and that Thor and Bruce are back with the Avengers. Thanos isn’t coming because the Guardians let Ronin kill him way back in 2014 So we’re just going to ignore everything that happened after half of Spiderman: Homecoming. ((ALSO WE FANON THAT PIETRO IS FASTER THAN A SPEEDING BULLET I WILL FIGHT YOU))
> 
> I would absolutely adore you if you left kudos and comments ^^

Tony never really expected to get a call like that. Peter was a prideful kid, and asking Tony for help was a little below him. He never used the burner phone. Never. Even when a villain had him beat so bad he couldn’t see straight, he didn’t call Tony.

Of course, Tony had equipped the kid’s suit with an emergency hotline straight to him just in case of anything. He refused to not give that option. It wasn’t like he actually expected Peter to use it, but he just wanted the kid to know he wasn’t ever alone. Tony wanted to be available for anything.

And yeah, Tony would rather have Peter tell him personally about the fights he got into rather than see them on TV, but using the phone was completely up to him, and Tony wasn’t going to push it.

As time went by, he came to expect Peter not to call him. The kid was sincere that way. Talking to Tony meant physically talking to him, so Tony always kept the living room window open to let the sticky boy pop by the Tower at whatever time he pleased.

The burner phone didn’t get used. Period.

But Tony should have anticipated Karen.

The AI. His best. He hadn’t been able to give Peter just any old AI, he’d had to start from scratch. Peter would need the most intuitive, most caring, most _alive_ AI that Tony could create, because while Tony couldn’t stop Peter’s fifteen-year-old butt from swinging out in the middle of the night to fight crime, he could at least do everything in his power to keep the kid safe while he did.

He’d let the kid name her, but he’d always called the AI ‘Maria’. It was probably for the best that Peter chose ‘Karen’ instead. Yet despite her name, Karen was nothing if not a mother hen to the young hero. She wasn’t human, but she definitely took her job of looking after Spider-man very seriously. She was also a world-class detective, so Tony really should have anticipated her call.

He didn’t.

He was sitting in his workshop, eating ice cream and enjoying a lazy Friday afternoon. Rock music blasted through his loudspeakers. Perched between Tony’s knees and the edge of his desk was the current object of his attention: a housing unit. Specifically for Nanoparticles. And while he would never outright admit it, he was creating the thing because he missed his arc reactor. He missed the feeling of security that it brought him. And while his body had been rid of shrapnel for a long time now, he just couldn’t stand the thought of being simply vulnerable if something bad happened. He wanted to be able to do something if anyone ever needed his help.

Across from him–next to his bowl of ice cream–was a simple black picture frame. It’d been a recent gift from Pepper, and he absolutely adored it. The picture was just of the two of them. No lights, no microphones, no press, no sunglasses. They’d taken it in Central Park just before breaking up unofficially. Before the accords. Pepper was grinning happily as Tony planted a kiss on her cheek, and written neatly in white marker at the bottom of the frame were the words, 

“I love you 3000.”

Because that’s what she’d said after Tony told her, “I love you a ton.” And to get a picture like that from her–especially after everything that had happened with Steve–well, it meant a whole lot. More than he could hope to express.

“Boss,” FRIDAY’s sudden interruption of Tony’s work cut right through his music and startled the genius out of his chair. Why had she turned his music off? He hadn’t done anything wrong, had he? He was a good billionaire! 

“Incoming call from Karen. One way.” FRIDAY’s tone was worried at best.

Tony hauled himself up. “Karen? Who–” His shock wore off and he remembered. “Answer it.”

Peter didn’t use the burner phone, he used _his_ phone. And if Karen was calling from the suit–

“...was told you were known for that smart mouth of yours. Why don’t you entertain me with your quips?”

“Uh, I dunno. I don’t really feel like it. Who told you that? And don’t say Adrian Toomes. Wow, that guy is such a–” Peter’s voice was suddenly cut off, and Tony felt his skin grow pale.

“No, in fact, it was my son. You should know I’m very grateful to you for saving his life,”

Tony shot to his feet. “FRIDAY, give me a visual. I want to see what he’s seeing.”

“But understand that I am not pleased with your troublesome tampering in my personal affairs.”

“Well since your personal affairs include killing innocent people in cold blood, I feel inclined to tamper.” His voice came out hoarse and choked.

“FRIDAY!”

“I’m working on it!”

A hologram flickered to life on the other side of the room, above Tony’s terminal. He rushed toward it.

“You’re a pest, Spider-man.”

Sounds of a struggle were undetectable because there was no conflict going on. Tony’s screen was full of the ugly image of a gaping mask. Hollow yellow eyes stared back at him.

“I’ve been told as much.”

The mask snorted and pulled away, revealing a green-plated bodysuit and the vague setting of some kind of lab room.

Peter gasped and dropped his head, panting to regain his breath, and Tony realized why he hadn’t been trying to fight the man off. Heavy clamps secured his wrists and chest to an equally heavy-looking chair, and if Tony had to guess, he’d say the same went for his legs too.

“FRIDAY, tell me what’s holding him.”

Blue scanners flickered over the live footage and it took about two seconds for Tony’s AI to answer. “The bands on his wrists, ankles, and chest are one-by-three-inch steel restraints mechanically attached to the chair. It is possible to remove them using a remote.”

Peter lifted his head as his breathing leveled.

“Give me a vital check.”

After another few seconds—in which Peter turned to watch his gobliny assailant walk around the room, tweaking beakers and what appeared to be strange and highly questionable experiments—FRIDAY answered.

“All systems functioning… normally.”

Tony was about to breathe a sigh of relief when he noticed the goblin pulling out a sterile syringe. 

“Wait, normal for a human?”

“Right, Boss.”

“But Peter’s not a normal human.”

“Right again, Boss.”

“What did that jerk do to him?”

The goblin man was filling the syringe from some oddly colored bottle.

“Does this son of yours have a name?” Peter asked abruptly.

“FRIDAY, analyze that guy’s voice pattern. See if you can find out who he is.”

“On it.”

“Yes, he does.” The goblin’s syringe was full. He flicked it a couple of times before making his way around the table. “I don’t imagine you’ll ever find out what it is, though.”

“Voice match found.”

“Pull it up.”

Another screen appeared above the terminal, but this one was smaller, and it was only a profile. Tony’s eyes widened. “What the heck, Norman Osborn?”

What squares did Norman Osborn have with Spider-man? He was a renowned scientist with a thriving company. And okay, so maybe everything he did to make money wasn’t legal? Was being a supervillain his part-time hobby? Peter said he’d killed innocent people.

“Get a full profile on Osborn,” Tony ordered. “Cross-check every point. I want anything suspicious front and center.”

“Why, can’t you tell me?”

The Goblin-Norman Osborn had moved closer to Peter and was holding the syringe poised.

“What is that, FRIDAY?”

The AI paused her search on the scientist and analyzed his experiment. “It appears to be some form of stimulant. It seems to be meant to reverse Peter’s weakened condition.”

“Was the first one from Osborn as well?”

“Yes, Boss.”

“Was it permanent?”

“I don’t think so. The first drug was designed to wear off, and this new one is merely speeding the process along.”

Peter’s breathing quickened.

“I am more than capable of telling you, little spider, but I wish to protect his identity, and by extension, my own. Yours, however…”

He reached forward with his free hand and started tugging at the base of Peter’s mask.

“Crap, no!” Tony lurched forward, even though there was nothing he could do. The visual blurred and the rustling of fabric nearly drowned out the frankly-stated,

“Pardon me, I need to see your eyes.”

Tony had witnessed enough. “FRIDAY,” He growled, turning away from the screen. “Track Peter. Find this idiot and send his location to me ASAP; I’ll worry about what laws I’m breaking later.”

“Tracking now.”

That might have been the fastest Tony had ever gotten into his suit.

Without needing to be asked, FRIDAY transferred the screens from his terminal to his outfit, and Tony’s faceplate came down just in time for him to hear Osborn say, 

“Why, Peter Parker! This is a lovely surprise!”

Wait, he knew Peter? That wasn’t good, right?

The visual as presented by Peter’s mask wasn’t giving Tony much beside green plates anymore, which were quickly replaced by a smooth plaster ceiling. The mask had probably been laid on a table or something.

“How do you know me?” Peter’s voice shook.

“Location found. Proceed to the fifty-fourth floor of Oscorp Industries’ headquarters.”

A picture of the Osborns’ tower appeared next to everything else in Tony’s vision.

“Thanks.” Tony shot out of the suit’s holding bay, not caring that he was knocking things over as he flew through the tower. He wasn’t entirely sure who he passed in the hallway, but he most likely gave them a heart attack too.

“I know a lot of things.”

“Don't give me those butterflies and squirrels!” Peter snapped.

Tony really wished he could see what was happening.

“I'm not a thing!”

He finally flew out of the tower. A tiny GPS started blinking rapidly on-screen and Tony didn't waste a second in following the trail.

“No, of course not, little spider. You are so much more valuable.”

His suit wasn’t going fast enough.

Peter’s breath hitched.

“To me, at least.”

Tony was about to ask FRIDAY to activate Enhanced-Reconnaissance Mode, but before he could so much as open his mouth, he was cut off by an ear-splitting scream. Tony’s blood ran cold. FRIDAY should shock him inside the suit to get his heart going again.

“FRIDAY,”

“Yes, Boss?”

“Make this bloody suit go faster.”

The noise had undoubtedly come from Peter, and his panic would be evident even if he’d only been breathing. But he wasn’t just breathing. Whatever the mad scientist was doing to him was emptying his lungs in sickening cries over and over again.

It seemed like forever and a half between the time Peter fell silent, and when the Oscorp tower finally came into Tony’s view. The appropriate floor level and the room appeared highlighted in his visor. He hadn’t noticed windows in the feed provided by Peter’s mask, but Tony didn't care. He didn't care that someone might try to sue him for breaking the window, Peter took precedence. Case closed.

So without a second thought, Tony shot around the building and slammed his suit straight through the glass. His repulsors were armed before he'd even stabilized.

“Ah ah ah,”

The dust cleared. Tony had landed the right room, and he'd knocked over a few of the goblin's experiments in the process, but he hadn't prepared for the chair holding Peter to now be weaponized–or at least, something close to it–with another full syringe poised over his exposed neck. The kid was passed out and completely unawares.

The goblin himself was standing in another side of the room, his hand holding a slim remote, and his finger resting lightly on a probably-death button.

“What did you do to him, Norman?” Tony demanded, thankful that he didn't have to readjust his repulsor aim.

The man seemed suspiciously unfazed by Tony having known his name. “Oh, nothing he won't sleep off. This however,” He held the remote up and gave it a little jostle.

Tony's blood pressure spiked.

“Ask me what this is.”

“It’s a remote, you idiot. Now let the kid go, and we won’t have any problems.”

“Problem?” He turned to face Tony. “The boy is a problem. He meddles with things he cannot hope to understand.”

“I wouldn’t count on it.” Tony growled. “Let him go. Let him go now or I’ll blow that vacuum of a face right off your head.”

“Ask me.”

“You’re a creep, Osborn. A sadistic creep.”

“Well, Mister Stark, it’s poison of my own concoction, if you must know.”

“Shut the heck up,”

“Strong enough to kill five men in less than half an hour. I’m very interested to see what it will do to him.”

Tony primed his repulsors. “I said shut up.”

“Careful,” His finger fell even closer to the trigger, if that was possible. “You don’t want to encourage me.”

Tony looked back at Peter. At that point, the young hero seemed merely asleep. His head had slipped to one side, and if not for the steel restraints, Tony could almost see him shifting lazily. Calculations seemed to sputter up behind Tony’s eyes. It would take him less than a second to fire at Osborn, but would that be enough time for the heinous man to push his stupid button? Likely. It wasn’t worth the risk.

Tony could back down, try to bargain with the scientist. But that wasn’t something he’d ever been extremely good at, and Norman was so crazy he might still hit the button anyway.

He could try to blow the syringe away. But again, in the time it took for him to swing his arm in that direction, the needle would have already buried itself in Peter’s skin, and he didn’t want to risk hitting the kid either.

Could he stall for time? Wait until Peter woke up before trying something drastic? Tony doubted that would work. The mad scientist was a ticking time bomb. He wasn’t stupid either, and he would likely figure Tony’s plan before it’d had a chance to have any effect.

“You deserve to die a slow and painful death.”

“Maybe, but does the boy?”

“It’s called a stalemate, Norman. One of us has to do something stupid soon, otherwise we’ll be standing here for a really long time.”

The scientist paused, as if considering the proposal. “Yes, I suppose that’s true.”

And he pushed the button.

“NO!”

Tony blasted him so hard that he punched through the far two walls. That… that twisted _monster_! When Tony was certain that the crazed man wouldn’t get up any time soon, he whirled around and ran to Peter’s side. 

The syringe had retracted, but its point of contact was fairly obvious; a black spider web had spread out from a spot at the base of his neck. The darkness seemed to crawl through his veins the longer Tony watched, and the longer he watched, the more Peter moved. He didn’t wake up, but his limbs began to twitch, and then jerk violently. His face contorted in pain.

“FRIDAY, wh-what do I do?”

“Medical action is required immediately. The poison will render him completely unresponsive in about one hour, and with the amount of stress his systems were recently exposed to, it will be impossible for him to resist the effects on his own.”

“I-I’ve got to get the stuff out of his body then, is that it?”

“Right, Boss.”

But how was that supposed to be accomplished?

“I’m taking him back to the tower.” Without waiting for any more bad news, Tony cut the steel bonds and scooped Peter up as gingerly as he could. He grabbed the kid’s mask from where it’d fallen on the floor. “FRIDAY, you’re on a countdown. If you don’t get me home within the next half minute, I’m replacing you.”

Tony didn’t know his boots could fuse together.

FRIDAY made good against Tony’s threat and managed to get him back to the tower in a smashing twenty-second record. Of course, the genius didn’t take any extra time to thank his AI, because as soon as he touched down on the tower’s landing pad, he opened his suit and ran inside, simultaneously trying not to jostle Peter.

“FRIDAY, start a scan. I–we need to find out what Osborn did to him.”

“Working on it.”

Tony was so busy making a mad-dash for the elevator that he didn’t notice the figure scrambling off his couch until he heard the obnoxious thump of a book hitting the floor. He turned at the sound of footsteps.

“Stark?”

Tony nearly stumbled in surprise, not sure what to make of the taller, slightly more cybernetical man with long, messy hair tied back and a tank top that left his shiny new arm on complete display.

“What’s going on?”

Tony snapped out of it then. “You know what, Barnes, I’d really love to stay and chat, but my kid is kind of dying over here and I–”

The Winter Soldier shook his head and ushered him back on course, practically shoving him into the elevator. “Where will you be? The infirmary?”

The doors slid shut and Barnes’ hand hovered over the keypad to the elevator floors.

“ _Probably_.”

The soldier punched in the appropriate floor level, then another right after. “I know where Banner went. I’ll bring him up.” He spared one small glance to Peter’s spastic form and immediately looked away.

Tony was thankful for the lack of a comment.

All too slowly, the doors finally opened on the correct floor, and Tony bolted out like a caged animal, racing down the hall as fast as his feet could possibly carry him. Barnes said something as he exited, but the genius didn’t care enough to hear.

After a few minutes of building panic, Tony finally stopped in front of a door that opened as he came to it.

“How’re we looking, FRIDAY?”

“Not good, Boss.”

The older hero tried not to dump Peter on the table at the center of the room as he entered, but he was high on panic, and everything just seemed to be _going too slow_.

“Blood toxicity has reached thirty-two percent.”

Tony swore out loud.

“What else can you tell me?”

“The substance as injected into his body contains traces of strychnine and sarin, which are extremely potent toxins that affect the–”

Tony cut her off with another bout of swearing. He wasn’t sure he’d ever cursed so profanely. Even his own ears were tingling. 

Strychnine and sarin?? He knew what those were, and even the smallest amount in the healthiest person alive could be destructive. This just kept getting worse and worse. Not to mention Peter was practically having a seizure that–especially because of his superpowers–was very hard to control.

Even though he hated to, the most Tony could do at the moment was call more restraints from under the table to keep Peter’s thrashing to a minimum.

“Blood toxicity at forty-five percent.”

“FRIDAY, JUST CAN IT AND DO SOMETHING USEFUL!” 

He shouldn’t yell at her. He really shouldn’t. None of it was her fault, and she really was only following her programming. Tony was just panicking to the point where he thought he’d hyperventilate, because he could stand it if _he_ was the one outmatched and cornered in a fight, if _he_ was the one targeted and hunted by cons, if _he_ was the one trapped under a collapsed building, if _he_ was the one on the outside of a plane a mile in the air with no parachute, and if _he_ was the one responsible for putting his crush’s dad in prison. But when it came to someone else–especially all the people he loved and cared about–it ate him up on the inside. Because there was nothing he could do. And that scared him a lot more than aliens and magic and royalty from other worlds.

Tony’s chest was starting to heave by the time the door opened again. An olive-skinned man with curly hair and kind eyes came in, glasses hastily straightened and a hard set about his mouth. 

“Tony,” He greeted. Wow, even his voice had gone grim. “I–that’s the… the Spider-kid, isn’t it?”

“Does it matter?”

“Barnes tells me that I need to fix him.”

“He’s… not wrong.”

“It’s not really my area of expertise.”

Tony glanced up briefly, sharply. “You’re the best we’ve got right now, and unless Peter spontaneously heals himself, you’re also his only chance at life,” Tony stopped talking before his voice could crack any more.

Bruce’s expression softened. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“Just some jerk.” Barnes was in the doorway. Tony couldn’t tell much from the corner of his eye, but his posture looked stiff and extremely protective. “Stuck him with something he’d done as an experiment. Said that it was poison. That it could kill five men in half an hour.”

“And how long ago was that?”

Tony swallowed thickly. “Less than ten minutes, maybe.”

“Okay, and I’m sure FRIDAY can help me find out what was in it.”

“I have a complete list of ingredients compiled.” The AI agreed.

“Then good news, I think I can save him.”

“You better be sure, Banner.”

“Tony,” He said gently. “I can’t promise anything.”

“You have to! And you have to save him–”

Barnes made his way over and nudged Tony’s arm. “Hey, maybe we should wait outside.”

“Wh-wha–I–No! I can’t leave–I can’t leave him again! I’m supposed to be there for him! I’m supposed to protect him!” It was very unlike Tony to be so vocal about something, but just the thought of leaving Peter alone–even with one of the people he trusted the most–was downright terrifying at the very least. 

Sometime after he’d started shouting, Barnes had actually taken hold of his arms and was forcibly dragging him out of the room. The man had the grip and strength of a super soldier, and in the very long run, Tony was grateful, because continuing on in that ghostly sterile bay was pulling him on a leash to the nearest panic attack and/or some other health problem vaguely related to his sky-rocketed blood pressure, and he wasn’t totally sure (he’d have to check) but he thought that maybe his nose was already bleeding.

“Stark, you need to calm down.” Barnes ordered after the long struggle back to the waiting area. The decor in there was almost as bad as the infirmary rooms themselves, and it made Tony want to vomit, especially since the stupid grandpa wouldn't let him sit.

“I don't want to calm down.”

“I can see that.”

“You don't get it, alright? You don't understand. I was–he–I'm supposed to protect him! He's just a kid, for Pete's sake! And he was my responsibility! Now I screwed that up–”

“Hey,” Barnes scowled and shoved Tony back, making him stumble and fall straight into a chair. “Shut your mouth for just one bloody second, Stark. This isn't your fault. So Peter got a little reckless and his stupid arse is paying the price for that, but guess what? It happens. And he's not a fragile baby bird. He's a fighter.”

“He's fifteen.”

“Steve used to be fifteen, and he always lied about being fine. I know what this feels like. Believe it or not, _I_ was the one with people that needed looking after. But they grew up, surprise surprise.”

“Steve didn’t grow up, arguably. He just got turned into an American icon and now he doesn’t need any help defending himself.”

“That’s my point,” Barnes sighed. “I was still trying to protect him even after he was more than capable of doing so on his own, and I almost died because of that.”

“Yeah, I remember. You fell three-hundred feet out of a train going one-hundred miles an hour. Your arm took the worst of it, and the only reason you didn’t die is because some socially awkward psychopath thought it’d be fun to test the effects of a foreign cosmic power on you.”

For some reason, that made the man smile. He reached over to a table near the wall and grabbed the box of tissues. “Wipe your face off.” He advised, offering them to Tony. “It’s a little red.”

Either the Winter Soldier was naturally good at providing mental therapy, or he’d experienced so much of it himself that he’d simply picked up a few tricks.

But while Tony was no longer on the verge of passing out, he didn’t exactly calm down, and for the next few hours that Bruce was working, He found he couldn’t do much besides pace around the waiting room, expecting the worst. Pepper had since gotten off work and come to keep him company. Barnes had gone–presumably for good, and a few of the other Avengers had stopped by to express their concern for the young vigilante.

Young Miss Maximoff had seemed especially worried, and she had insisted on helping Pepper. Tony still wasn’t overly fond of the young woman’s presence, but he appreciated it nonetheless, even if he did find it odd that she was on her own. Wasn’t it a thing for twins to follow each other around everywhere?

Time seemed to go by even slower after that. Tony hadn’t really been keeping track of it in the first place, but he was pretty sure it’d been at least five hours. Pepper had compiled chores from work, Wanda had supposedly finished all of her’s from school, and under any other circumstance, Tony would be bored out of his mind.

He was too worried for that.

“Tony, Wanda… Miss Potts,”

Tony had been about to re-adopt his previously broken habit of chewing his tongue when Steve leaned into the infirmary waiting bay.

“Dinner is ready upstairs. Sam made pizza.” 

Dinner? Already? It seemed too early.

Wanda stood with uncertainty.

“I’m not hungry.” Tony mumbled without even glancing up.

“You should still eat something.”

“I don’t _want_ to eat anything.”

“Tony–”

“Wow Steve, let it go. It’s just pizza.”

Tony turned to the doorway as Bucky squeezed past the Captain, holding a plastic grocery bag and wearing street clothes.

“Besides, I’ve got something better.”

Pepper smiled and nodded approvingly when he pulled out an apple and tossed it to the billionaire. Tony made a disgusted noise.

“I’ll come, Steve.” Pepper offered. “I don’t think I’ve tried his pizza before. Wanda, love? Will you join us?”

Reluctantly, the two Avengers left with the CEO.

“You know, those apples are supposed to be really good.” Barnes said conversationally, after about a minute of watching Tony pick at the skin. Apples weren’t exactly his favorite thing in the world.

“What, honeycrisps? Yeah, I know.”

“Well, I wouldn’t.” Then Barnes reached down and pulled something else out of his bag. Blue plastic packaging with white accents. “Apples are kind of overrated. It’s fine.”

“...Double-stuffed Oreos?”

“I figured you’d appreciate them. Let’s trade. I’ve never eaten a honey crisp before.”

Tony wouldn’t admit it, but that helped a lot. Double-stuffed Oreos were the best.

They sat that way for about another half hour in companionable silence, eating Barnes’ snacks and doing nothing in general. By the time Tony was double-stuffed with double-stuffed Oreos, Bruce finally– _finally_ –came out of the room to meet them, looking absolutely haggard.

Tony didn’t miss a beat in shooting out of his chair. “Well? What’s the verdict?”

Bruce made tired waving motions with his hands and slumped into a seat. “Just… give me a second, alright? I’m spent.”

“You can move you mouth, Doctor. I’ve been waiting for the past few hours.”

“Alright, alright,” He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “The kid is… he’s in a coma right now–”

“ _WHAT_?” Tony hadn’t realized he’d still been holding the Oreo package until he dropped it. Granted, there’d only been a handful left that he absolutely could not finish, but at the moment, he was sooo no concerned about getting crumbs on his floor.

That was how sarin killed people. They fell asleep and never woke up.

“Relax!” Bruce jumped in his seat, and Barnes had torn the grocery bag. “Medically-induced! I’m sorry, I should have mentioned that.”

“Yes, you should have!”

“He’s fine now. I… I managed to get him stabilized, and I pushed most of the toxin out of his system. All that’s left for him to do is heal.” Bruce rubbed his eyes again. “Well, I–that’s why I want him to sleep. His body has been under way too much stress–from what I’m not sure–but him being conscious will only slow his recovery.”

A lead weight disappeared from Tony’s shoulders and he took what felt like the first breath in hours.

“How long will that be?” Surprisingly, the question had come from the Winter Soldier.

Bruce carefully examined his glasses before placing them back on his nose. “At the rate that he heals? Likely not more than a few days.”

Days.

“He’ll stay here, then?”

“I don’t know where we’d move him.”

“I’ll have to explain all of this to his aunt.”

Barnes shot Tony a pitying look.

So that was how the genius ended up camping in the infirmary with his phone and a giant fluffy blanket. The chair in Peter’s room was comfy, just as Tony had intended, and in the hour before he’d settled in, he’d tried his very best to make the stiff place feel homey. Then, with the leftover pizza he’d scavenged and a hoard of Dr. Peppers, he’d finally done what he wished he never had to do again, and dialed May Parker.

He’d already missed six calls from her. And twenty-two text messages. They were very unprofessional, and most of them were her simply telling him to pick up his bloody phone.

“Oh, how nice of you to call!” She said as a way of greeting, having answered almost immediately.

“Listen, May–“

“Oh no, Mister Stark, you listen. You waited this long to contact me, I think you can stand to wait a few seconds more. Do you see what time it is? Look. Look and see what time it is.”

Tony obligingly glanced at his watch. Twenty-one, thirty-five. Gulp.

“Peter didn’t come home after school and I thought, oh, no big deal, he probably just went patrolling. I’ll call him in about an hour.”

“Wait, how did you–“

“Hush your mouth! I’m explaining all of this to you! Anyway, I did call him. It went to voicemail, but I wasn’t that surprised. Maybe he was in the middle of something. But whenever he can’t answer right away, he usually calls me back as soon as he can. Another hour went by, and I got a little worried. So I tried him another time. Same thing. I texted him and he didn’t respond. And I kept trying and trying to reach him, but nothing was working. I even called a few of his friends from school, but no one had seen him.”

She paused there for breath.

“At this point, it’s been a few hours since school let out, and Peter hasn’t returned a single of my calls or texts. What with his vigilante habits, you can imagine how anxious I was getting.”

Again, Tony wondered how she knew about Spider-man, but he remembered the woman’s previous warning and kept quiet.

“Then I thought, now wait just a minute, maybe you had seen him. So I tried the number you left me and it went straight to voicemail. Do you know how many times I tried that number?”

Tony didn’t think he wanted to.

“Twenty-seven. Twenty-seven! I tried calling you twenty-seven times! You never answered. But that was probably typical of you, and I didn’t have time for your habits. So I rifled around the apartment and found some different information taped to Peter’s mirror. I’m not sure why you gave your personal phone number to my nephew instead of his legal guardian, but I was willing to let it slide if you picked up and gave me an exceptional explanation.”

He hadn’t.

“You didn’t.”

Tony could feel himself slouching in the chair.

“And now it’s been fifteen hours since I last saw my nephew, and I have absolutely no idea where he is. If you do, tell me right this instant or so help me I will march straight up your tower and make your pet machines _find_ him for me.”

There weren’t many things in life that scared Tony, but if he ever bothered to calculate, he would guess that the list had been growing exponentially in the past eight years. May Parker had been a recent addition.

“May… I–” Tony glanced over at Peter’s sleeping figure and was unable to keep his voice from cracking. The kid’s suit had been taken off, revealing multiple bruises along his arms and legs and torso, especially where the restraints had been placed. On top of that, his skin looked unusually pale, so much so that it nearly resembled the plain t-shirt that Steve had donated. “Well, he’s here. At the tower.”

“Hmph. Can I talk to him?”

“Uh, not exactly.”

“What is that supposed to mean, Stark?”

“It means that he’s physically incapable of speaking to you at the moment. He’s–he’s in the infirmary. Unconscious.”

She shrieked. “What?! Why? What happened?” It sounded like she’d knocked something over.

“He–” Tony paused and rubbed a hand down his face. “He had a nasty encounter with uh, the Green… Goblin.”

May sighed and seemed to relax. “Oh brother, not him again. What did he do this time?”

Tony was again surprised by how much about all of this she knew. “Uh–he–well, he wanted to test a few experiments on Peter. I didn’t–he almost died–Karen helped me find him in time. But uh… Dr. Banner has him in a coma for now. Said he’d be alright in a few days.”

The jingling of keys. “...In that case, expect me over in about an hour.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

A door slammed on her side. “He’s my nephew, and he almost died. You try and stop me.”

Tony wouldn’t even entertain the idea.

<~><><~>

Peter was feeling pretty groggy when he woke up, and his first thought was to go right back to sleep. But then, it was probably a school day, and if he went back to sleep, he wouldn’t be able to do a few minutes of patrol before the start bell. Which was probably why he felt so tired in the first place. But despite his mysterious exhaustion, he rubbed his eyes and shuffled into a sitting position.

Wait a minute… 

Peter hastily scanned the room he was in. It was twice the size of his bedroom at the apartment, and the bed was really comfy, so much so that he decided it was the perfect combination between warm burrito and fluffy marshmallow (he must’ve been hungry). Not only that, but the overhead lights were comfortably dim, leaving Peter’s eyes an adequate atmosphere to adjust. His sole complaint was the blank colorlessness of the room. Why was everything white? Even his shirt, which was about three sizes too big and smelled like Mr. Rogers–

Oh. Peter was at the Tower.

How had he gotten there? The last thing he remembered was being clamped to that chair as the Goblin stuck him with dose after dose of pain. It’d been too much at one point, and he’d entirely passed out.

“Morning,”

A voice to Peter’s left snapped him out of his musings.

He was definitely in the infirmary–at least, that would explain all the white and the floofy chairs strategically placed as if for guests.

“Or should I say afternoon?”

Peter squinted. “Bucky?”

The Winter Soldier offered a surprisingly gentle smile. “Hey, kiddo.” He slipped a marker into the book he was holding. “How’re you feeling?”

Peter slumped back against the pillows and rubbed his eyes again. “Tired. And thirsty.”

He could hear Bucky shifting from the seat and looked up when the man poked him in the shoulder, holding a tall glass of water.

“Bruce said you should drink a lot.” He chuckled as Peter downed the glass in three huge gulps.

“Smart guy.” Peter passed the cup back. “What happened?”

Bucky frowned a little as he placed the glass onto the nightstand. “You don’t remember?”

“I remember being stuck in that chair and getting injected a bunch of times. It was really fuzzy but… then I passed out. Next thing I know, I’m in the Tower…?”

The frown remained intact. “Well,” Bucky started. “I’m no doctor, so I’m not sure if that’s good or bad.” He paused. “Stay here. I’ll be back.”

Peter lifted a lazy arm as the intimidating man walked from the room. “Sure thing.” He mumbled drowsily. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He was probably more than capable of getting up if he really wanted to, but he didn’t. He hadn’t been lying when he said he was tired. Had Bucky said it was the afternoon? It felt somewhat later, for whatever reason. It was still Friday, right? Peter waited a few minutes after Bucky had gone to ask as much. He had never been the one to initiate the conversation before.

“Um… Hey, hey F-FRIDAY?”

The AI’s disembodied voice immediately filled the room, and Peter had to consciously stop himself from throwing off his blankets and jumping to the ceiling in one fluid motion.

“Yes, Peter?”

He gripped the soft sheets and stiffened a little. “What day is it?”

“It is currently Monday, and the date–”

“Oh no!” Peter’s hands flew to his head as he cried out in horror. “I have a physics test today! How did I–how long have I–I gotta get home! I need to talk to Aunt May! Oh man, she’s gonna kill me! FRIDAY!”

“Yes, Peter?”

“How long have I been in Stark Tower?”

“Approximately seventy hours.”

“CRAP!”

He would have continued rambling on and on, but the AI interrupted him before he could.

“Not to worry, Peter. Both your aunt and your school have been informed of the situation.” It sounded like she was quoting someone.

For a moment, Peter forgot his crazed panic and tilted his head curiously. “Wait, what? What situation?”

Before FRIDAY could answer, Peter’s enhanced hearing caught the growing sounds of a conversation–no, _argument_ –floating down the hall towards him.

“...a shower he says! Get off your butt and go eat some real food he says! I’ll sit with the kid he says! Nothing will happen he says!”

The voice was getting closer, accompanied by… two pairs of footsteps walking very briskly. At the end there, it almost sounded like the closer of the pair had broken into a run.

“Well you know what?!” Tony Stark appeared in the doorway, looking more disheveled and decidedly un-Tony as Peter had ever seen him.

“I LEAVE FOR FIVE MINUTES, AND YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENS? THE KID WAKES UP WHILE I’M GONE! I WAS GONE FOR FIVE FREAKING MINUTES!”

Peter blinked in confusion as the man he had concluded as being not-Mr. Stark marched into the room, followed closely by a very amused-looking Bucky Barnes.

Fake-Tony’s hair was wet and tangled. He had bags under his eyes. Peter also noted with grudging suspicion that the strange man had stolen back his MIT hoodie from Peter’s official quarters, which would be an almost inexcusable offense if he washed it before it was returned. Fake-Tony also smelled like Mr. Stark, despite having obviously just showered and shirked his usual cologne, and as Fake-Tony strode over to Peter’s bed and crushed him with a hug, Peter felt the disappearance of a weight he hadn’t even known was there.

“Um–Mr. Stark?”

Fake-Tony’s hold tightened. “It’s not a hug, kid.” He insisted in a small, choked voice.

Peter hesitantly reached up and returned the embrace. “Okay.”

The hug lasted all of one minute, but to Peter, it was one minute too short. He felt safe. He liked feeling safe.

“Listen, kid.” Tony mumbled when he pulled back. His eyes were misty and slightly red, for some reason. He kept his hands on Peter’s shoulders. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again, you hear me? Ever.”

“Mr. Stark–”

“No, no no, this is where you zip it, alright? The adult is talking!”

Peter obediently snapped his mouth shut, somewhat confused as to why Tony looked so close to becoming an emotional wreck, or why the man had pulled Peter back into a death-grip hug. He wasn’t complaining, but he was pretty confused.

“I thought… I thought I was gonna lose you.”

And the man sounded so vulnerable that Peter’s heart twinged just a little bit (a lot a bit). Looking over Tony’s shoulder, he could see Bucky turn and slip out of the room.

“I’m right here, Mr. Stark.”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. But when he did, his voice was soft and strangled with emotion.

“I know, kid.” A shuddering breath. “Don’t I know that.”

He released him again, but this time, he swiped inconspicuously at his eyes and settled for grabbing a chair to haul up beside Peter’s bed.

He hadn’t shaved in a few days.

“Mr. Stark?” 

“Yeah, Pete?”

Peter scooted back against the pillows and snuggled into the blankets.

He felt suddenly shy asking, especially since he didn’t know the severity of his “situation”, as FRIDAY had deemed it. Well, it must have been pretty bad, considering the state that Tony was in. And Bucky sitting up for him? Since when did that happen? And how many other people had been worried sick? Probably Aunt May, and Ned too. Peter always gave Ned a follow up. Wow there were so many questions he wanted to ask.

//Stress level: <<74%//  
//Confidence level: >23%//

Going simple was probably a good start.

“What… happened?”

Tony sighed and rubbed a hand down his face. Peter noted with slight surprise that it was a habit he’d picked up from the man. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Peter paused before giving an answer. “Um, I was in that room with the Goblin, and I was stuck in a chair and he kept injecting me with stuff that made me hurt all over. He…” Peter’s blood ran cold. “He knows who I am.”

“Kid–”

“Mr. Stark! He knows who I am! What if he tries to hurt Aunt May? Or my friends? I-I can’t–what if he–”

Tony surged out of his chair and grabbed ahold of Peter’s arms before he could jump out of the bed. “Hey, hey just relax there, Underoos.”

“But Tony–”

“It’s alright, kid. I promise you. We can sort it out, okay? I just need you to calm down for me.” 

Tony’s reassuring tone helped the panic to subside, and Peter felt the attack recede the longer he sat there with two strong hands holding him. It was going to be okay. Super villains found out his identity all the time. No biggie.

“There you go,” Tony gave him a fond smile once his breathing had leveled. “You’re good.”

Peter nodded small. Yikes, he had almost had a panic attack in front of his idol. How embarrassing. “He injected me one more time, and then I passed out because I hurt so much.”

“And that’s it?” Tony released Peter’s arms, reaching a hand out instead to run once through the teen’s unruly curls.

“That’s it.” Peter paused a moment. What had been happening in the past few days? FRIDAY told him that his aunt and school had been notified, but to… what extent? “Wait, wh-what about Aunt May?”

“What about her?”

“Where is she? Is she okay? Does she know where I am?” 

Tony smirked and eased himself down onto the bed. “She’s at home right now. I managed to convince her to leave after giving her Alpha ten-level clearance and letting her stay over Friday night. Bruce still had you in a coma so I told her–”

Peter cut him off with a gasp. “Dr. Bruce Banner put me in a coma?!” He shrieked. That was so cool! Almost as cool as meeting the man himself! 

“Wh–I–yes? Don’t worry, it was just to help you heal! And he kinda did the whole saving your life part so–why are you trembling, Pete? Are you okay?”

Peter opened and closed his mouth multiple times. _The_ Doctor Banner had saved him from certain death. That. That was amazing. It was practically beyond description. Could Peter’s life really be so awesome? And now his Aunt had full clearance to the entire Tower. Did that mean she’d _finally let him and Ned have sleepovers with the Avengers_? Maybe? Please? Was that too much to ask for?

Eh… yeah, probably.

“This is so cool.” Peter finally managed. His mind was spinning, and all he could think to do was stare blankly at the far wall with his lips parted slightly, eyes wide.

Tony made a noise that was half sigh, half chuckle. “And here I thought you were in some mild mode of panic but nooo.”

Peter snapped out of his fanboy daze and grinned sheepishly at Mr. Stark. “Sorry. I’m just–it’s just that–well I–” He cleared his throat and mumbled quietly, “Nerd.”

There was a look that flashed across Tony’s face at that moment, and Peter told himself that he’d mis-read when he interpreted it as endearment.

“Well, alright.” Tony repealed his hand–making Peter instantly wish he hadn’t–and moved from the bed to the chair. “I can tell you my side of the story.”

So Peter got a recap of the weekend, and suddenly everything made a whole lot more sense. Why Mr. Stark looked so awful, why Peter was in the Tower, and even why he felt like a limp noodle (he really was hungry). Even the Goblin–

“Wait, the Green Goblin is… is Mr. Osborn?”

Tony nodded while Peter tried to wrap his head around that. “And his son… oh no, Harry.”

Peter had definitely saved Harry’s life before. Peter even had a few classes with him, now that he’d transferred to Midtown. The kid was a big fan of Spider-Man, and he had fit right into Peter’s little friend-group, having earned MJ’s respect on his first day when he sat down at their lunch table with “War and Peace” in his arms.

Even if it was for an English project.

And what about Mr. Osborn? Peter had interacted with him multiple times. Heck, he’d even idolized the man, and to hear that the father of one of Peter’s best friends was the same guy that’d almost killed him just… didn’t seem plausible. Mr. Osborn cared about Peter like an extension of his own family, and the Green Goblin had known exactly who Peter was when he’d put poison in his veins.

“Are you sure?”

Of course Mr. Stark was sure. He was a genius, if nothing else, and he most certainly would not make such a mistake and feed it to Peter as the truth. He was too smart for that. He was too kind for that. But Peter had to be absolutely certain. He had to know without a shadow of a doubt.

Tony nodded. “I’m sorry, kid.”

Peter visibly deflated. “I just can't believe it. He… he saw me, he recognized my face, and he still tried to kill me anyway.”

“You know him?”

Peter nodded sadly. “Harry is one of my best friends.”

A short breath was his only response for a few seconds. After swallowing a few times, Tony finally managed to eke out, “Sorry, kiddo. I know how tough that can be.” He reached over and nudged Peter’s foot, suddenly looking so much more tired. Because he did know, didn’t he? He’d gone through this and much more in his experiences, which almost made Peter feel ridiculous for being on the verge of tears. 

“But we _will_ sort it out, alright? You’re strong enough to face it. I promise that much.”

He was so self-assured that Peter had no choice but to calm down. He could always count on Mr. Stark to make him feel better, even if the man claimed to be better with machines than actual people. Peter didn’t know why he always said that.

//Stress level: >43%//  
//Confidence level: <<89%//

Peter smiled softly. One of these days, he would need to introduce the Avengers to Detroit: Become Human.

A gentle knock to the door drew both of their attention post a lull of silence. Peter looked up to see one of his top three favorite redheads standing in the doorway, for the first time as he had ever seen her wearing something besides a crisp suit.

“Hey boys,” She smiled at Peter. “Bucky told me you were awake. I’m on level sixty-three for the rest of the afternoon, but I thought I’d check in on you both.”

“Thanks, Pep,” Tony mumbled tiredly, throwing her an adoring look that Peter was pretty sure most people would have missed. “We love you, three-thousand.”

Her smile grew. “I know that, don’t I? Natasha and Steve are making a late lunch upstairs. Thought you might want to join them, right Peter?”

Peter’s eyes widened as his stomach snarled obnoxiously in agreement. “R-right, Miss. Potts.”

Tony chuckled. “Thanks, Honey, I think we’ll do that.”

She nodded in approval. Peter was pretty sure that she was wearing Tony’s jacket. “Feel better, Pete.”

The hasty nod coupled with a solid “yes, ma’am” was obligatory at least. As far as Peter was concerned, that’d been an order.

When she was gone, Tony stood up and ruffled Peter’s hair affectionately. “Come on, kid.” He teased. “You haven’t eaten anything in a few days.”

And Peter’s teenager body topped with his ridiculous spider-metabolism was all the worse for it.

“I haven’t?” Peter asked in amazement, tugging off the blankets and immediately missing their warmth. It seemed that no one had donated any pants to him either. To solve both problems, he grabbed one of the softer, fuzzier blankets (that was sure to shed all over) from the bed and wrapped it around his shoulders.

Tony stared at him for a second before remembering that he’d been asked a question. “Uh, kid, you haven’t exactly been awake the past while, like I said earlier, and no one really had the heart to use a feeding tube, so there’s that.”

It turned out that Peter’s legs were a little wobbly to stand on.

“Easy there, Underoos, I got you.” Tony threw his arm around Peter’s shoulders to steady him, and to anyone that wasn’t the wiser, it’d have looked like a simple fatherly side hug, which Peter was totally fine with.

“Now let’s go get lunch. Knowing Nat, she’ll find a way to burn down the penthouse, whether or not Steve takes every precaution in the world.”

Valid, valid.

And they walked out like that–because Peter’s noodle limbs still needed time to recover–and Peter wasn’t exactly sure, but he thought that maybe FRIDAY was recording it all. Especially since the Black Widow was giving him and Tony a particularly sly look when they walked into the kitchen. For the first time, however, Peter found he didn’t mind the attention. He didn’t mind it at all. Because he felt safe for the first time in a while.

And that was a very good feeling.


End file.
